Lord Voldemort:The Demon Warlock of Knockturn Ally
by Bellatrix-Loves-Voldie
Summary: This is a Sweeney Todd style Harry Potter fic written as a challenge set by TheCrzyinglyInsne1 enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is a for a challenge set by TheCrzyinglyInsne1 for a Sweeney Todd inspired Harry Potter fic, using Harry Potte

**A/N: This story is a for a challenge set by **_**TheCrzyinglyInsne1**_ **for a Sweeney Todd inspired Harry Potter fic, using Harry Potter characters for the Sweeney Todd storyline. Obviously I have had to tweak some aspects of the storyline but I have tried to keep it as true to the story as possible.**

**I will update weekly and that is an absolute promise!**

**Really hope you like the first chapter!**

**-Sam x**

**Lord Voldemort: The Demon Warlock of Knockturn Alley.**

**Chapter 1**

Young Ronald Weasley had been travelling all night; the bitter wind was stinging his face and his thin travelling cloak was not enough to stop him shivering, but he had never felt so jubilant, for he was heading home!

Ron sucked in a lung full of icy wind and grinned.

"There's no place like Hogwarts!" he bellowed.

"No, there's no place like Hogwarts!" growled the hooded figure sitting astride the Hippogriff to the left of Ron's.

"Mr Riddle?" Ron yelped. The man had barely spoken since Ron had rescued him from a bleak Albanian forest.

"You are young! Life has been kind to you… You will learn." murmured the mysterious Mr Riddle.

The silhouette of Hogwarts castle was just discernible in the heavy fog. Ron felt his heart leap.

"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and the Mudbloods of the world inhabit it, and its morals aren't worth what a Muggle could spit and it goes by the name of Hogwarts!" ranted Mr Riddle, who seemed to have been angered by the sight of the castle.

Ron stared at him nervously as he continued his tirade against Hogwarts, wondering if rescuing him had been such a good idea after all.

"…but there's no place like Hogwarts!" he repeated in conclusion.

"There was once a Dark Lord… he was powerful and great… but then he was betrayed!" he spat. "He could never love; such emotions were for fools and failures. But there was something about her that was different. He found himself… desiring her…"

Ron made a non-committal grunt. He wasn't sure he was in the mood for story-time.

"Alas, he was not alone in his desires for her. There was another man… a man with a cunning no-one could have anticipated. He was weaker, yes. But he caught the Dark Lord unaware… the girl was his and the Dark Lord felt something he never thought he would feel. He was banished." hissed Mr Riddle.

"So er… what happened?" mumbled Ron uncomfortably.

"Oh, that was many years ago. I doubt if anyone would know." he replied with a hint of sadness.

They had reached Hogsmeade. Ron and Mr Riddle dismounted from the Hippogriffs and gazed at the sight of the castle nearby.

"Thank you, Ronald." muttered Mr Riddle. "Who knows how much longer I would have had to endure that terrible purgatory if you hadn't found me."

"Will I see you again?" enquired Ron, who felt a certain pity towards the poor fellow.

"You might find me if you wish. Knockturn Alley's where I'm headed."

"Until then," smiled Ron, holding out his hand in a gesture of goodwill.

Mr Riddle however, turned and walked away without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey people

**A/N: Hey people! I was going to wait until Wednesday to update, but I just couldn't wait that long XD **

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, especially **_**TheCrzyinglyInsne1**_

**Unrelated to the story but it's my 17****th**** birthday on Thursday and I have an exam : ( is annoyed**

**Anyway, here is chapter two! Hope you enjoy reading It as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

**Sam x**

**Chapter 2**

Mr Riddle walked until day-light. It was tedious beyond belief that he couldn't apparate to his destination, but, alas, he had not seen his wand for 15 years.

What a relief then when he finally found himself nearing the dark, murky alleyway he had been seeking.

He cast a wary eye at the shops with a faint paranoia that he might be recognized. He needed to remain inconspicuous.

Everything around him seemed ghostly familiar; as if no time had elapsed since he had last set foot there.

He stopped suddenly outside the one building he had been most anxious to see: _Mrs Lestrange's Meat Pies._

He stared at the top floor window for a while and gulped before gripping the door handle and letting himself into the shop. The cheerful tinkle of the bell contrasted jarringly with the over-cast weather and eerie atmosphere of the place.

There was a woman with unkempt hair and a dirty dress standing behind the counter stabbing at a paltry piece of meat with a knife. It took her a moment to realise he was there but then she looked up and gasped, flung the knife onto the counter and hurried towards him.

"A customer!" she breathed, beckoning him to a chair. "You gave me such a fright!" she tittered, taking his cloak and hanging it onto a rusty nail on the door.

Mr Riddle looked at her confusedly and she flushed. "All I meant is that I haven't had a customer for weeks. Did you come here for a pie, sir?" she asked hopefully.

He shrugged which she seemed to take as an encouraging sign and proceeded to clatter about the shop, seizing a dusty rolling pin and rolling flat a ball of pastry.

"What is that?" she winced, as she spotted a cockroach on the floor and stamped on it forcefully.

"I bet you think we've got the plague from the way that people keep avoiding the place. Heaven knows, I try sir. Would you like a drop of Butterbeer?" she enquired, already pouring a generous amount into a dirty looking glass.

"Mind you, I can hardly blame them. These are probably the worst pies in Hogsmeade." she sighed dejectedly. "If you doubt it, try some!"

She thrust a plate under his nose and folded her arms. Mr Riddle scrutinised the mouldy looking lump of pastry in front of him before taking a tentative bite. He allowed a moment for the foul taste to spread over his tongue and then shuddered and spat it out.

"Isn't that just disgusting?" said Bellatrix as she wandered around the filthy shop, half-heartedly starting to prepare a second batch of pies. "Mrs McGonagall has a pie shop. Something funny going on there, I can tell you!" she leaned over the counter conspiratorially, clearly eager to share some gossip with her rare customer. "Lately all the neighbour's owls have disappeared! Can you imagine? Popping people's owls in pies! Never happen in my shop! And those owls are quick…" she added darkly.

"Times are hard, sir." she sighed as Mr Riddle tried to wash down the lingering flavour of the pie with his Butterbeer.

Bellatrix peered at him curiously as recognition dawned upon her.

Her heart leapt; he'd come home.

**Another A/N: I am aware that Knockturn Alley isn't in Hogsmeade but I wanted it to sound more Harry Potter-ish so for the sake of this story, it is lol.**

**Thanks for reading. Please leave a review if you have the time xx**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews

**A/N: ****Thank you for all the reviews! It means a lot! Here is chapter 3 which is really short compared to the chapters I've just written (6 and 7) but I hope you enjoy it anyway :)**

**Feedback, as always, greatly appreciated.**

**-Sam x**

**Chapter 3**

Bellatrix led Mr Riddle through to a side-room with the offer of another drink. Her mind was racing; how could she know for sure it was him?

"If times are so hard, why don't you rent out the room above this shop?" asked Mr Riddle, clutching his second pint of Butterbeer.

"Up there?" snorted Bellatrix. "No-one will go near the place."

"And why's that?" asked Mr Riddle carefully.

"Well, it's years ago now but people still remember. You see, something happened up there. Something not very nice."

When Mr Riddle didn't reply, she continued.

"There was this wizard. Powerful he was, probably one of the greatest wizards that ever lived. But he disappeared. No-one really knows why."

She chanced a glance at him to see if his face would give anything away but he remained impassive so she took up her story once more.

"Riddle his name was. Tom Riddle." She breathed, hardly daring to believe that she had spoken the name aloud.

"What happened?" muttered Mr Riddle as he took another gulp of his drink.

"There was this girl… pretty little thing, she was. Anyway, this other wizard, Severus Snape, he wanted her like mad, he did. Every day he'd come to see her and conjure up a bunch of flowers each time. She was never interested though. She was too upset over her Mr Riddle's disappearance to ever go outside; just sat up in her room with her baby, poor thing. But that's not the worst of it…" Bellatrix sighed. "One night, Snape's henchman, Wormtail, called on her to deliver a message from him. He'd invited her to his house that night, and he made sure she couldn't refuse, poor thing. So he hurries her away to Snape's house where he's having this ball. Everyone's wearing masks and there's no-one she knows there, so she seeks out Snape. Anyway, she finally finds him and she's had quite a bit to drink by then. She didn't stand a chance…" said Bellatrix softly.

Mr Riddle stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Could no-one have mercy on her?" he asked in horror.

"It is you then? Tom Riddle?" she breathed, gazing at him in awe.

"Where is Lily?" implored Mr Riddle, dreading the reply.

Bellatrix looked down at her lap.

"She poisoned herself." she said shortly, looking back up at Mr Riddle's horror-struck face.

"And he's got your daughter." Bellatrix answered the unasked question.

"Snape." hissed Mr Riddle murderously.

"I'm so sorry I had to tell you all this, Mr Riddle." Bellatrix said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"No!" He shrugged her off, furiously, a manic glint in his eye. "That man is dead. It's Voldemort now. Lord Voldemort. And he will have his revenge…"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Happy birthday to me

**A/N: Happy birthday to me! Hehe. Here is chapter 4. It's short again and a bit OTT but I figured it was an acceptable scene to write OTTness lol. Hope you like**

**-Sam x**

**Chapter 4**

Bellatrix led Voldemort up to the room above the shop, each rickety stair creaking beneath their footsteps.

The room was dark and smelt musty from the years of dust that had accumulated over every surface.

Voldemort looked around, his heart racing. The place was empty, save for the cot that stood eerily untouched in the corner of the room.

Bellatrix crept uncertainly towards a loose floorboard in the centre of the room and knelt down to open it.

"I could have sold it, but I didn't." she said breathlessly as Voldemort strode over to join her. "I kept it…just in case."

She reached down under the floorboards and, with shaking fingers, handed him what lay there.

Voldemort gasped. Unlike the rest of the room, the Wand looked shiny and new, as though it had been waiting for him all these years, as if it had known he would one day return for it.

He held the wand cautiously, hoping that the time they had spent apart had not damaged their sacred bond. And yet it felt perfect, like two friends who had not had company in years and encounter a chance meeting; any awkwardness is immediately dispelled by the pure magic that connects these two lost souls, and the time that has been wasted apart suddenly fades into meaningless history. And so it was with Voldemort and his wand.

"My friend." he murmured. "How long it has been, and yet here you are waiting for me… perfect as ever. I know I can rely on you…"

"You can rely on me too, my Lord." said Bellatrix softly.

"Soon, we will do great wonders, my friend." said Voldemort, gazing at his wand as if in a trance.

"I never forgot about you… I knew you'd come home." Bellatrix continued, gazing at him with pure adoration in her eyes.

Her words went unappreciated by Voldemort, however, who was now pacing the room, still talking softly to his wand.

"Anyway, you're welcome to move in here, My Lord. It'd be an honour…" her voice trailed into nothing; Voldemort now had his back to her completely.

"Blood will be shed, my friend. Revenge will be ours." hissed Voldemort.

It was only then that he seemed to notice Bellatrix's presence.

He turned to face her and she smiled hopefully, but he merely glanced at her before he turned back to his precious wand.

"Leave me." he muttered jerkily.

Bellatrix nodded and duly left the room, shutting the creaky old door behind her.

Voldemort lifted his arm high up into the air causing a torrent of emerald green shooting stars to burst from the tip of his wand.

"At last! My arm is complete again!"

Voldemort grinned, an evil gleam in his eye. Finally, the wand and its master were reunited.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello again

**A/N: Hello again! I actually waited a whole week before updating! I've had a bit of writer's block and I'm kind of stuck on Chapter 8 at the moment. After I've uploaded this, I'll have another go!**

**Another short-ish chapter, but the next 2 Chapters are longer.**

**Enjoy! **

**xx**

**Chapter 5**

Ron, meanwhile, was hurrying through a deserted corridor at Hogwarts, only half concentrating on where he was going, as he was trying to read from his Potions book at the same time.

Inevitably, he stumbled and hit his head on the wall.

"Oh no!" he cried, as his books cascaded from his arms, sending loose papers scattering across the floor.

As he crouched down to salvage his belongings, Ron froze. He could hear something; something unlike anything he'd ever heard before.

It was a girl's voice and yet it sounded so beautiful and sad, it made the hairs on the back of Ron's neck stand on end.

She sounded slightly muffled as if she was behind a thick wall or window.

Ron cast his eye desperately up and down the corridor, searching for the source of the voice.

It seemed to be coming from below…

He glanced right and noticed that the steps to the dungeons were closer than he'd thought.

Abandoning his possessions in his haste, he bounded down the steps towards the eerie, dank dungeons.

The voice seemed to get stronger with every step he took. He quickened his pace until eventually he saw her;

Above Professor Snape's office, was a tiny window he had never thought to notice before now, and sat inside was the most beautiful girl Ron had ever seen.

She had long, wavy, auburn hair and was singing with that beautiful voice, whilst conjuring tiny yellow canaries from the end of her wand.

Ron couldn't take his eyes off her.

Eventually, she seemed to notice his presence and stopped singing. She smiled at him and he gazed back in wonder. Who was she? But, then, with no apparent warning, she glanced behind her and shot out of view.

Ron blinked in confusion; where had she gone?

He waited for a few more minutes before sadly retreating back up the stairs to find his books still strewn across the floor.

But there was something else odd too. A witch was wandering; drunkenly it seemed, up and down the corridor, her tatty robes trailing along the ground, and her face obscured by an ancient looking hat.

Ron bit his lip nervously and thought to himself. He was suddenly struck by a crazy idea that this woman knew who the beautiful girl was.

He cleared his throat and approached her.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Could you tell me who that girl is? The one that was singing a minute ago?"

The witch looked up at him, and what could be seen of her face grinned at him, displaying a set of dirty, broken teeth.

"That's Hermione!" she whispered, her pungent breath making Ron recoil a little.

"Professor Snape keeps her safe, he does. So, don't you go interfering, or you'll be sure to regret it!"

But before Ron could enquire further, Filch had come ambling round the corner with Mrs Norris at his heels.

"Trespasser!" he spat, his jowls aquiver. "I've told you before! It's a mystery how you manage to get in this castle! Now, shoo!"

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but before a word had escaped his lips, Filch had ushered the crazy witch out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey again

**A/N: Hey again! Sorry that I'm a bit late updating but I've had severe writer's block with Chapter 8. BUT that's all sorted and I've finally written it. Phew! So here is chapter 6, which is my personal favourite of all the chapters I have written so far. Keep reviewing; it really motivates me to keep writing!**

**Hope you enjoy this!**

**-Sam x**

**Chapter 6**

Ron stood in the corridor for a few more dazed seconds before picking up his books and wandering down the steps to the dungeons once more.

"Hermione!" he called, peering up at the tiny window where he had seen her just five minutes ago. "Hermione, I know you're there!"

There was still no response. Ron's stomach lurched. Maybe something had happened to her?

"Don't worry, Hermione!" he yelled recklessly. "I'll rescue you! One day, I swear I'll save you from this place!"

He started suddenly as the sound of a door creaking brought him back to his senses.

Ron lowered his gaze and saw that Severus Snape, the Potions master was beckoning him over towards his office; the very place Hermione was being kept captive.

"Come here, Weasley." barked Professor Snape.

Ron obliged nervously and gulped as Snape shut the door behind them. Had he heard him calling out to Hermione?

"Did you lose your way, Weasley?" enquired Snape, gesturing for Ron to take a seat.

"Er…yeah." muttered Ron. "I've got a new classroom for Defence against the Dark Arts… I was a bit…lost." he explained quickly, praying that it would satisfy Snape.

"Really?" answered Snape flatly. "You're in your last year at Hogwarts now, Weasley. Which means you're how old?"

Ron's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. It seemed an odd conversation to be having with his Potions teacher.

"Seventeen." he informed Snape warily.

"You must be in your element with all those pretty female classmates to admire. There are plenty of them to choose from. Surely you've had plenty of…practise after six years of being here. Would you say you're practised, boy?" Snape enquired silkily.

Ron gaped back at him, open-mouthed.

"I don't know what you mean…" he stuttered.

"I have them all here." Snape intoned, gesturing towards the massive bookcase to his left. "Drawings of everything you have ever dreamed of doing with a witch. Would you like to see?" he asked, mockingly.

"I think you've got the wrong end of the stick." Ron said, horrified, already reaching for his bag to leave.

"I think not." Snape growled, menacingly, the leering smile instantly transformed into a grimace. "You gandered at my ward; Hermione. You gandered at her!" he said quietly, pointing his wand at Ron's face.

"I didn't mean any harm!" Ron yelped, staring at the wand nervously.

"I don't care what you did or didn't mean Weasley!" Snape suddenly shouted, causing Ron to jump in his seat.

Snape brought his wand closer to Ron's face and hissed, "If I ever see you loitering around my office again, you'll be out of this school and into the hands of the Dementors faster than you can say _Crucio_. I'm sure they'll be more than willing to give you a nice welcoming kiss."

Ron gulped as his eyes widened in fear. He had always disliked Snape, but he'd never thought of him as a pervert or a murderer. Clearly he'd been wrong.

"Wormtail!" barked Snape, and the short, balding head of Peter Pettigrew came ambling into the room, a malicious expression on his rat-like face.

"Show Mr Weasley out, will you?" Snape said with a meaningful nod.

Wormtail grinned, grabbed Ron in a surprisingly strong grip and pushed him roughly towards the door.

"Seventh Year Defence against the Dark Arts is that way!" he sneered, pointing back up to the stairs Ron had descended.

Then, without warning:

"_Crucio!" _

Ron doubled up in pain, every nerve in his body begging silently for mercy.

"That's just a taster!" Wormtail said and the pain stopped as abruptly as it had started. "If Professor Snape sees you here again, it'll be the _Avada Kedavra _for you."

Ron could only gasp in response, his muscles still recovering from their torture.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Ron's bag floated out into the dungeons and landed accurately on top of his head, much to Wormtail's delight. Still cackling, he retreated back into Snape's office.

His head throbbing, Ron picked up his bag and stumbled towards the steps.

But despite the danger, he felt more determined than ever to rescue Hermione.

"I know you're there Hermione and I swear I'll rescue you, one day soon!" he called as loudly as he dared before waking up the stairs and out of sight.


	7. Chapter 7

**If any of you remember me, I have got another two chapters to upload! I am so sorry it has taken so long. I hope you enjoy. xxxx**

**Chapter 7**

The town of Hogsmeade was bustling excitedly with happy shoppers going about their daily business.

Bellatrix and Voldemort wandered through this throng of cheeriness with an unavoidable aura of conspicuousness; maybe it was their pale faces or their dark and gloomy attire that cast such a blatant cloud of misery around them.

Bellatrix had insisted on taking Voldemort to Diagon Alley that afternoon and he had grudgingly obliged, taking care to tuck his wand carefully into his robe pocket. He gripped it now, casting his eye over the crowd.

Bellatrix pointed to a stage of sorts towards the centre of the street. "He's here every Friday. People can't get enough of him. He does magic that could blow your mind away."

She glanced at Voldemort furtively.

"He isn't anywhere near as good as you though." she smiled up at him adoringly but he wasn't paying attention to her simpering compliments; he had spotted a recognizable face amongst the witches and wizards clamouring towards the stage. It was Wormtail.

Voldemort snatched the wand from his pocket and made a move towards him.

Bellatrix, however, grabbed his wrist and he froze mid-step.

"Not yet!" she warned in a low voice, making sure not to be overheard by the many passers-by.

Voldemort half-nodded and averted his eyes to the floor. It would be foolish to enact his revenge so publicly. And it was Snape he was really after of course…

Suddenly, multi-coloured flashes of light erupted from behind the curtain on the stage and a tiny figure emerged, coughing slightly from the smoke.

At first it looked like a small child, but upon closer inspection Voldemort could see that it was a house-elf, wearing nothing but a filthy sheet draped around him like a loin-cloth and had clumsily bandaged fingers.

"May I have your attention please, Wizards and Witches!" he spluttered in a highly distinguishable and surprisingly loud squeak of a voice.

He waited a moment for the general hubbub to quieten down considerably before continuing.

"My friends, are there any of you in this crowd who wake every morning to discover your pillow is covered with hair?"

There were a few murmurings amongst the wizards and the house-elf grinned.

"Fret not, good sirs, for here in my very hands is the cure!" he yelled, brandishing a small bottle and waving it above his tiny head.

"This, friends, is Slughorn's Magical Elixir!" he cried dramatically, arousing the attention of a few more passers-by.

"Mark my words, ladies and gentlemen; just one rub of this and your hair will be so long and thick, even Dumbledore's beard will be green with envy!"

A few of the surrounding witches and wizards chuckled and moved closer.

"Want to try some, sir? It'll only cost you seven sickles!" squealed the house-elf excitedly, advancing towards a slightly nervous looking wizard by the name of Arthur, whose short ginger hair had thinned so much that a large bald patch was apparent on his head.

Before Arthur could protest, the house elf was shaking the contents of the bottle rigorously over his head.

He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell but the house elf didn't seem to notice.

"A few more doses of that, and you'll be able to take your pick out of all these lovely witches!" he giggled, causing Arthur's wife, Molly to tut loudly.

Bellatrix and Voldemort were observing the spectacle with a certain amount of scepticism. The irritating (or so Voldemort thought) house-elf was now throwing bottles of the foul-looking 'elixir' into the crowd.

"Bella, what is that awful stench?" he said audibly, catching the attention of some of the people nearest to them.

Bellatrix smirked before quickly changing her expression into one of disgust.

"Is there a troll on the loose?" she barked.

"Try Slughorn's Magical Elixir!" the house-elf continued to shout, his voice getting higher and higher in pitch. "Even the baldest of bald heads will soon sprout curls after just one dose!"

Voldemort had managed to grab a bottle from the wizard next to him and was now sniffing at it contemptuously.

"What is this? It smells like Doxycide and…" He inhaled deeply once more. "Wartcap powder!"

Bellatrix grabbed another bottle and pretended to retch. "I wouldn't touch it if I were you!" she warned, passing it back to the wizard.

"I urge you all to buy a bottle, gentlemen! The ladies love it!" the house-elf wailed above the protests of Bellatrix and Voldemort.

"Flies do too!" retorted Bellatrix.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 which is the last one I wrote in the summer before I started college and it took me ages. I'm going to try and continue the story because it's a shame to abandon it. Love you all for reading! **

**Chapter 8**

After Bellatrix's proclamation, the curtain upon the stage was ripped open and a short, incredibly fat man strode into view.

"Hello there, Ladies and Gentlemen!" he boomed, shoving the house-elf roughly aside. "I am Horace Slughorn, the most famous magical barber in the country! And I demand to know who is making these slanderous accusations about my elixir!"

He glared at the uncomfortable audience.

"Me." stated Voldemort calmly and the surrounding witches and wizards seemed to shuffle away from him so that he was entirely exposed to the furious stare of Horace Slughorn.

"My name is Lord Voldemort and I have seen your so-called elixir and have come to the conclusion that it is nothing but a fraud concocted from Doxycide and Wartcap Powder!" he continued boldly.

He strode towards Slughorn, holding his wand aloft. "Do you see this wand?" he yelled, turning to face the crowd. "I bet five galleons that I can do far superior magic with this wand than you have performed in a lifetime! Which of you wizards cares for a free shave?" he called to the audience.

Horace Slughorn gave a sceptical chuckle and brandished his own wand.

"You'll regret this, m'boy!" he spat, thrusting his cloak onto a chair. "Dobby!"

The little elf came scurrying back onto the stage.

"I accept your challenge! We'll see who the real fraudster is!" he cried theatrically.

Two wizards, one of which being Arthur Weasley, clamboured onto the stage.

"Will Mr Pettigrew be the judge?" suggested Voldemort, inclining his head towards Wormtail, the grip on his wand tightening.

"Always glad to assist my fellow magical community." he drawled, grinning at the spectators. "The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner!"

Slughorn immediately began to shout out complicated incantations, brandishing equipment out of thin air with a flourish of his wand.

"Of course, I've done this a thousand times before." He assured the gaggle of spectators, craning their necks for a better view. "Could do this in my sleep!" he chortled, lathering the wizard's face with the concoction he had just brewed.

"Oh yes, I have many a famous customer!" he said slyly, puffing out his chest self-importantly and winking at the crowd. "Why, just the other day I had the honour of shaving Gilderoy Lockhart. But, of course, we've been in contact for years!" Slughorn chuckled.

He narrowed his eyes at Voldemort who was still lathering his customer's face with a look of concentration upon his gaunt features.

"You probably think I'm jesting, _Lord." _Slughorn sneered, the last word dripping with sarcasm, "but I have evidential proof!" He nodded smugly at the audience before shooting Dobby the house-elf a warning glare.

Dobby scuttled backstage and reappeared a second later with a photograph of Slughorn grinning excitedly at the camera with his arm around a very handsome wizard with wavy blonde hair who was also grinning toothily at the camera.

On it was written in elegant writing:

"_To Horace,_

_Thanks for the shave!_

_-Gildeory"_

The crowd murmured approvingly and a few witches giggled stupidly.

"This shaving malarkey isn't as easy as it may look you know!" he wagged a chubby finger. "It's a fine art! Fortunately I was born with the skills necessary to-"

"The winner is Mr Voldemort!"

Slughorn stopped mid-sentence, his mouth agape in shock, as he turned around to face Voldemort who was standing next to a fully-shaved Arthur Weasley.

"Lord…" muttered Voldemort irritably, but his words were drowned out by the cheers of the spectators.

Slughorn tried to disguise his look of fury into a smile.

"I bow down to a skill far greater than my own." he said in an undertone.

"My five galleons." hissed Voldemort, holding out his hand expectantly.

Slughorn scowled but thrust the coins into Voldemort's palm.

"Dobby!" be bellowed, and the little elf was kicked violently behind the curtain once more.

As Voldemort and Bellatrix were headed back to the pie shop, Wormtail approached.

"My Lord, I was wondering if you had your own establishment?" he enquired, stroking his own untamed stubble.

"He certainly does. Above my meat pie emporium on Knockturn Alley." Bellatrix said, proudly.

"Then, Sir, you will be sure to see me there before the end of the week." said Wormtail.

"It will be an honour." replied Voldemort, smirking slightly as he clutched his wand in anticipation.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:// Hello again! Here is chapter 9 which is a bit longer than the others, I think. I'm not sure if I'm happy with it but I hope you all will be. Feedback appreciated as always, but most importantly, enjoy! x **

**Chapter 9**

The next day, Voldemort was pacing restlessly up and down the upstairs room of Bellatrix's pie shop. Bellatrix herself was lounging in a moth-eaten chair she had managed to salvage from a Muggle household. "It's not spectacular but it'll do the job," she commented, stroking the armrest absent-mindedly. "And I must say it was entertaining acquiring it…those Muggles didn't know what had hit them," she smirked. She glanced at the still-pacing Voldemort and sighed at his lack of responsiveness.

Suddenly he spoke, causing Bellatrix to jump slightly. It was rare that he spoke to her, despite her many fruitless attempts at conversation.

"Why doesn't Wormtail come?" he spat. "He said he'd see me before the end of the week!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. He was becoming obsessed with Wormtail's supposed visit.

"Who says the week's out? It's only Tuesday," she said bemusedly, but her reassurances seemed only to anger him further. He glared at her furiously before throwing his wand onto the floor in agitation.

Bellatrix stood up slowly and cautiously rested a hand on Voldemort's shoulder. She was pleasantly surprised when he let her keep it there. Taking this as a positive sign, she felt the courage to continue. "Calm down, my Lord. There's no need to stress yourself," she almost whispered.

Still, he made no reaction and Bellatrix wondered if he was even listening. Not to be dispirited, however, she leaned closer towards him and maintained her softly spoken speech. "What's the hurry for? Planning something's the best part!" she grinned wickedly. "Once it's done, it's over, so you might as well enjoy something for as long as you can." Her eyes slid over to the dusty chair, and had Voldemort been interested, he might have pondered just how long its previous owners had to suffer for it.

"Just wait…" she murmured.

The proximity of her breath in his ear was beginning to irritate Voldemort and he broke free of her gentle grip to wander towards the window.

He gazed unseeingly out of the murky glass and froze suddenly when a flash of rich red alerted his gaze. Horace Slughorn was ambling steadily towards the shop, the elf Dobby in tow.

Bellatrix peered over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow. "Well, this is a surprise…"

Voldemort's heart was beating excitedly in his chest. "Keep the vermin downstairs," he hissed.

Bellatrix hurried downstairs, greeting Horace Slughorn with a rather strained smile.

"Ah, hello Mrs….?" Slughorn prompted, looking at Bellatrix with a hint of distaste.

"Lestrange," she replied curtly before directing her gaze to the downtrodden elf cowering away from his master.

"Ooh" she cooed, mock sympathy etched on her face. "You wouldn't mind if I offered it a nice pie would you?"

Slughorn snorted. "Do whatever you want, miss. I'm here to see Mr Voldemort."

"Lord Voldemort is right upstairs." Bellatrix said, placing particular emphasis on the title. "Come on then," she gestured to the elf, leading him through to the shop. "Hope your teeth are strong!" she warned as she bustled about the kitchen. "Take a seat!"

Slughorn creaked up the stairs and knocked smartly on the door to Voldemort's supposed 'establishment'.

"Come in." Voldemort barked, tucking his wand into his robe pocket.

"Mr Voldemort," stated Slughorn as greeting, puffing out his broad chest self-importantly.

"Hello Mr Slughorn," replied Voldemort, making himself sound pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, call me Horace m'boy. Now, I'm here for my five galleons back if you don't mind!" he said, shrugging off his rich plum travelling cloak and resting his generous backside on an old stool that groaned ominously under his weight.

Voldemort knit his brow together in confusion. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Why?" he asked perplexedly.

"Because you entered our little bet under false pretences, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, wagging a reproving finger in Voldemort's face. "So…" he sighed and grinned, "I think it only befitting that we share the profits for this place. I mean, I'm sure you'll be getting many a customer after that fiasco in the marketplace."

Voldemort was beginning to get irritated. Share the profits? What was the man raving on about?

"So what do you say, half and half?" asked Slughorn, the smile fading from his face. "Mr Tom Riddle?"

Voldemort froze.

Dobby, meanwhile, was perched tentatively on a rickety chair, nervously twisting the pitiful rags that clothed him around his fingers.

Bellatrix blew a thick layer of dust off a nearby plate and placed a stale pie upon it before handing it to Dobby. As she did so, she thought she felt a flicker of recognition. "Didn't you used to be the Malfoy's elf?" she enquired, peering closely at him.

Dobby bowed his head and clutched his rags yet more tightly. "Yes miss," he mumbled.

Bellatrix nodded slowly. "So how come you ended up with that pompous thing upstairs?"

She glanced furtively upwards. What was going on up there? Fighting the urge to investigate, she forced herself to listen to the snivelling elf once more.

"Don't say you don't remember me m'boy!" Slughorn was chortling. "I remember all the Slug Club members I ever had! Especially you, Tom. I must say I was surprised to see you. I thought you were headed for far more ambition than a barber…" he cast his eye around the shabby, neglected room and raised his eyebrows. "Apparently not," he concluded.

Voldemort was still lost for worlds. Of course there was only one thing he could do. His eyes lit up with excitement. But he must keep his face neutral…

"So, Tom, unless you want the whole of Hogsmeade to discover you're a fraud, I suggest you take me up on my offer! Lord Voldemort indeed!" he scoffed.

Voldemort snapped. Drawing his wand from out of his pocket, he swung around to face the mocking smile of Horace Slughorn and screamed; "Crucio!"

Bellatrix's heart started to race as she heard the muffled screams over the ceiling. Noticing Dobby's inquisitive gaze upwards, she hastily began to clatter pots and pans around to mask the awful sound.

"Always work to be done!" she trilled.

Dobby, however, had frozen in fright; the last of his pie slipped from his fingers and he bounded up from his chair.

"Oh no! Master Slughorn has an qppointment! If he's late he will be very angry," he trembled. "Thank you for the pie miss," he called over his shoulder as he rushed out of the room.

"Wait!" Bellatrix hissed frantically, but the little elf was already out of sight.

"Master, you have an appointment!" panted Dobby as he ran up the stairs as fast as his tiny legs could manage; but when he pushed open the door, Voldemort was sat, quite alone, on the dusty chair, and Slughorn was nowhere in sight.

"Your master had to apparate to an important meeting. You'd better try and catch up with him." Voldemort said shortly without looking at Dobby.

"I think it would be best if I just wait here, sir," Dobby muttered nervously.

"Well, why don't you wait downstairs with Mrs Lestrange? I'm sure she won't mind giving you another pie," replied Voldemort as patiently as he could.

"Well…" Dobby mumbled uncertainly.

Voldemort's eyes darted to a heavy chest in the corner of the room. Why wouldn't the vermin just disappear?

"Tell Mrs Lestrange from me to give you a nice big glass of Butterbeer," he said in what he hoped was a friendly tone of voice.

Dobby's face lit up with excitement. "Thank you sir!" he squeaked before darting back downstairs.

Voldemort cautiously closed the door, and edged towards the trunk.

As it creaked open, the head and torso of Horace Slughorn emerged, gasping for air and weak from his torture.

Voldemort raised his wand, gave Slughorn one final look of disgust and whispered the fatal words;

"Avada Kedavra!"


	10. Chapter 10

**A:N: Yet another chapter to make up for my unacceptable lack of posting these last couple of months. Anyway, I realised far too late that I had missed out the part where (in Sweeney Todd) Anthony tells Mr T about Johanna. Soo I tried to make up for it. I hope it works. If not, enjoy the rest of the chapter!**

**Chapter 10**

It was a misty and miserable day at Hogwarts; the fat grey clouds obscured any sunlight and a thin sheet of rain drenched anyone who was forced to venture outdoors. The weather, however, was an irrelevance if you were unfortunate enough to be stuck in the dungeons in Professor Snape's lesson. He was currently ridiculing a terrified first-year student who had accidentally botched his sleeping potion.

"What do you call this slime, Creevey?" he smirked, peering into the boy's cauldron.

"S-sleeping Potion, Sir," replied Creevey in a whisper.

"Would you? I'd call it filth!" spat Snape. "70 points from Gryffindor and detention every night this week!" he snapped. "Class dismissed."

Snape sauntered out of the room before his students had time to react.

As he was striding towards his office he encountered Wormtail.

"Ah, Wormtail. Walk with me, I have something to discuss with you," balked Snape.

Intrigued, Wormtail followed.

After checking that they were alone, Snape declared;

"In order to save her from the cruelties of this world, I have decided to marry my ward, Hermione."

"Oh, wonderful news indeed, Sir!" exclaimed Wormtail.

Snape, however, seemed troubled.

"It was peculiar, though that when I offered myself to her, she seemed rather…reluctant," he confessed.

Wormtail bit his lip briefly before he spoke.

"If you don't mind me saying so, Sir, you're not quite looking your best at the moment," he suggested cautiously.

Snape nodded curtly as encouragement to continue.

"Well, I only mean to say that your robes aren't in the best condition and you could do with a hair cut, Sir," said Wormtail hurriedly, clearly readying himself for some kind of reprimand.

Snape ran his fingers through his greasy mop of hair and sniffed.

"Perhaps I could make more of an effort," he conceded grudgingly.

"Sir, it makes sense!" grinned Wormtail in relief. "With a haircut, some new robes and a shaven face, she'll be desperate to have your hand in marriage! Witches are weak, Sir!"

"Hmm," was Snape's only response.

"Fret not though, Sir, I know of a barber in Hogsmeade who can conjure a smoother face than you can even imagine! His name is Voldemort and he resides at Knockturn Alley."

Snape seemed to be thinking. He stroked his stubbly face and thought of the look of revulsion Hermione had given him.

"Take me to him," he said shortly to Wormtail who seemed to be smirking at his own apparent genius.

Bellatrix didn't think she'd ever been so bored in her life. The elf, more's the pity, seemed to have taken a liking to her and hadn't stopped talking and hiccupping whilst drinking his Butterbeer.

"…and if I didn't do what I was told, I had to burn my hands in the oven, miss!" he was bleating now.

"That's nice," said Bellatrix absent-mindedly. "I think I'll just go and check on Lord Voldemort."

She bustled upstairs and entered the barber's shop.

"That elf is driving me insane," she complained before glancing around the room. "How long 'til Slughorn gets back?"

"He won't be back," Voldemort said softly, wiping his wand delicately with a cloth.

Comprehension dawned on Bellatrix's face and she gasped. "My Lord, you didn't!" she exclaimed.

Voldemort inclined his head slightly towards the trunk. Bellatrix, following his gaze, stepped towards it and gingerly lifted the lid.

Horace Slughorn was slumped, clearly dead, with a look of horror on his round face.

"Have you gone mad?!" she gaped at Voldemort, a twinkle of excitement in her eye that could not be disguised by the apparent fear in her voice.

"He remembered me from before. He tried to blackmail me for half my earnings. Obviously I'm not one for patience and so I had no choice but to let him feel Lord Voldemort's wrath!"

The excitement faded from Bella's face; his logical reason for the attack seemed to lessen the fun of it somehow. Still, she noted, it was probably the most he'd said to her for days.

"Oh, well. That's all right then," she recovered herself quickly, before bending to rummage through Slughorn's pockets. She scooped a money bag out of his robes and tucked it into her dress. "No need to waste it," she reasoned.

Voldemort seemed not to have noticed, or at least acknowledged, any of this. He was still peering at his wand for fingerprints and dust.

"So what shall I do about the elf then?" she asked.

Voldemort shrugged carelessly.

"Send it up."

"Oh, there's no need for all that. He c-"

"Send it up!" Voldemort growled, his eyes flashing momentarily red.

Bellatrix sighed.

"I was only thinking he could help me out round the shop. An elf always comes in handy."

Voldemort grit his teeth and turned to face the window. For the second time that day, he was in for a surprise. Snape and Wormtail were walking towards the building.

His mouth went dry.

"Snape!" he rasped, his heart beginning to thud. "Get out."

Bellatrix started at him worriedly. She didn't want him to over-react in his excitement and blow his cover. He had to be careful.

When she didn't move, Voldemort swung around to face her and roared; "Get out!" once again.

Reluctantly, she scurried from the room.

Moments later, Snape was tapping on the door.

"Come in!"

"Mr Voldemort?" enquired Snape silkily.

"Professor Snape." Voldemort replied, bowing his head slightly, partly to hide his angry expression but also to display fraudulent respect. He needed to gain Snape's trust.

Snape cocked his head to one side in confusion.

"You know me, Sir?"

Realising his mistake, Voldemort quickly turned it to his advantage.

"Who in the magical world does not know the great Severus Snape?" he smiled courteously. No-one could deny that Tom Riddle had always been an excellent liar.

It was an attribute to his arrogance that Snape accepted this comment without question.

"So what can I do for you today, Sir?" smiled Voldemort. "A stylish trimming of the head? A soothing skin massage? Take a seat!"

He spoke with such an elegant and charming politeness; it was the manner of which Bellatrix had been praying for ever since she'd been reunited with him.

The effort went unappreciated by Snape, however who began a list of orders in a tone which ordinarily would have made Voldemort compelled to punish the speaker. It was only his burning need for revenge that motivated the charming smile to stay on his face.

As Snape settled himself into Bellatrix's chair, he sighed contentedly and began to talk to Voldemort in a slightly warmer tone.

"The things we do for the love of a witch…" he murmured, causing Voldemort to freeze in anticipation.

"Who may I ask is your intended, Sir?" he breathed.

"My ward," Snape replied with relish. "She's as pretty as a Veela."

"As pretty as her mother?" Voldemort couldn't help but growl, anger coursing through his veins.

"What?" said Snape sharply, his suspicions aroused.

"Nothing, Sir! Nothing!" Voldemort answered hastily. He must control himself. Regaining his air of grace, he continued;

"Shall we proceed?"

Snape closed his eyes and leant back in his seat, as Voldemort began to magically dissolve the short hairs on his face.

Deciding it was best to keep him talking so that he had no opportunity to think about his last comment, Voldemort struck up a conversation about beautiful witches; a topic Snape obviously knew a great deal about it seemed.

Just as Voldemort had reached a peak of tension, and had raised his wand higher to deliver the fatal curse, the door burst open and Ron skidded into the room, his cheeks flushed.

"Sir, you have to help me! I need to rescue a girl! Hermione!" he panted before freezing when he saw who was sat in the barber's chair.

Snape looked mutinous.


End file.
